


Beautiful and Crooked

by hotwheels_kin



Category: Jack the Giant Slayer (2013)
Genre: F/M, POV First Person, Please Forgive me, Sad Ending, Unrequited Love, but also it's sad wow i was a sad bitch, it's 5am and i'm emotional, middle school me used to watch this movie every weekend, please laugh at this with me, wHY IS THIS IN FIRST PERSON, why am i posting something i wrote in 2013 and just found
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2021-01-02 12:09:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21161441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotwheels_kin/pseuds/hotwheels_kin
Summary: Elmont has been in love with Isabelle for a very long time. Too long....





	Beautiful and Crooked

**Author's Note:**

> ok so i posted this in early 2014 on fanfiction.net and i just found it again and i felt that this fic deserved its place among my others on here bc it really set me on the path that i'm on today lmao

The giant’s cumbersome feet teeter at the edge of the stone slab. His throat coughs up a deep yell and he’s gone. Falling to the ground far, far below. I can’t believe my eyes. Jack’s plan had me a little skeptical, but it worked, with an unexpected and delightful result. 

I laughed aloud. It felt so good to have one little triumph after all the horrors today. Seeing the king’s most trusted advisor betray the kingdom, watching my best friend be eaten by a two-headed beast, being put into a giant’s oven… After all that the world finally had some mercy on us. 

Jack and Isabelle couldn’t help but laugh too. We can go home now and warn the kingdom of what’s to come. Giants. 

Isabelle’s sweet laugh touched an old scar inside of me, but I buried it. I glanced over as my friends’ laughter ceased, only to dig up the old scar and reopen it worse than it had been the first time. 

Jack held her in his arms. She had her soft smile and I could see the feelings welling up inside her. She was falling in love with him. Everything I’d tried so hard not to notice between the two of them burned into my mind. Him at the marketplace arguing with drunks, the way they talked as he patched up her bleeding wrist, him stopping the giant from making her into dinner, the look in her eyes when she saw him in the kitchen, I had seen it before and I’m seeing it now. 

The scar’s blood was memories and needles. 

I remember the first time I saw her. She was maybe ten or eleven, wandering the royal catacombs like the room was full of beautiful paintings, not rotten bodies and crumbling bricks. I was just a teenager, the newbie of the soldiers. The king desperately sent a squad to search the palace for his ever-exploring daughter. 

She pulled the hood of her silver cape off her head to peer into the fading face of King Something-Or-Other the Third. She had climbed up the dusty brown slabs to see the tomb on top. I stopped to watch her slender hands reach and open the coffin, dusting off cobwebs and shooing bugs. Her slender fingers extended to touch the ancient bones inside. 

“Princess!” I interrupted, disturbed that she would actually touch the dead remnants. She gasped and her head whipped around. Her blue eyes were lit with surprise, then sadness. She jumped down from her perch, her shawl fluttering behind her. She held out her hand to me expectantly. 

“I assume you are to escort me to the king again?” She said grumpily. 

I was speechless. I nodded and took her arm. She was nothing like what I’d imagined. She had been climbing about in the catacombs in a formal dress and her hair done in neat curls, like she was about to dine with some foreign royalty, not explore her head ancestors’ remains. 

The king sat in his study with an advisor, but dismissed him immediately to speak with us. 

“Where was she this time?” He said after I bowed respectfully. His dark hair was just beginning to gray, and if I had to guess, it was graying over worry about Isabelle just as much as the kingdom. 

“The Royal Catacombs, Your Majesty.” He just shook his head and put his hands to his temples. 

“Isabelle,” He began. She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, prepared for a speech that I guessed she had hears a good many times. I left the study so I didn’t have to listen to the king ineffectively discipline his daughter. 

I saw her later that day, and all she said to me was “You won’t find me tomorrow.” 

And I didn’t for a while, but eventually in some strange place, she always turned up. As she grew, her range expanded to outside the gates of the castle, much to her father’s despair. 

Isabelle and I grew used to our little routine. I did less guarding of the kingdom than searching for its princess. Every time I found her wandering the marketplace or hiding in the back corner of plays, she seemed more restless. I hated taking her back, but letting her stay for too long would’ve been insubordination. 

The pain intensifies. Barely a second has passed since it began, but the memories have broken the dam that I had spent a year desperately building and patching and repairing. 

She was sixteen then. I had recently been promoted to second-in-command and I had just finished escorting her and her father home from a nearby kingdom. The two were in a heated argument over who-knows-what, as their bickering was a daily event. I stood off to the side in the throne room, my ears barely registering the argument after years of those sounds pouring into them. But three words I’d never heard her say exploded into the echoing room. 

“I hate you.” She stormed away, slipping off her shoes so she could break into a run. 

“Isabelle!” The king called after her in vain. “Elmont,” he spoke my name and I sighed, knowing already what he was asking me to do. 

“I’m on it, Your Majesty.” I headed off after her. 

She was in the stables. Her black horse was saddled and she was just about to hop on when I caught her. 

“Elmont, please,” she whispered. I thought about letting her go, just this one time, tell the king I didn’t find her in time, but then I saw the other horse. The little dapple gray mare stood dressed like a pack mule with enough supplies to last a girl months. She would be gone for a long time if I let her go. But I couldn’t. My stomach churned, feeling torn. 

“Your Majesty…” I whispered. 

“Oh, Elmont, how many times do I have to tell you? Call me Isabelle.” 

This memory is tainted. Another bleeds through at this point. Isabelle saying the same words to Jack. 

“Isabelle, I can’t let you go.” The blips in the story smooth themselves out. 

I wondered if I was referring to myself or the king and my duties when I told her I couldn’t let her go. 

Tears snuck down her cheeks as she let go of the reins in defeat. “I know.” 

She ran off again. 

I found her the second time in her chambers, clinging to an old book and drowning in pillows spotted with her tears. I peeked in the door, making sure she was there under all those pillows and not just a dummy like a trick she had pulled years ago. I could see the bed tremor with each silent sob that took hold of her frail frame. She had changed into her nightgown, so I closed the door to give her some privacy. 

I was only a step away when I heard my name drifting from her room. I turned and cracked open the door once more. She was peering at me through the swath of red velvet and golden tassels. I’ll never forget her eyes at that moment. 

For the first time in my life, she looked scared. Scared and in despair. 

“Oh, it’s just you,” She spoke softly, her voice a little scratchy. She seemed to relax a bit. I tried to ignore the fact that the word _just_ stung. “I was worried it was _Roderick._ I didn’t want him to see me… see me like this.” She dropped her gaze for a second and then searched my eyes curiously. “He hasn’t told you yet, has he? Well, you should know. Roderick is now officially my _fiancé.”_ She spat the word in disgust. 

I knew she hated Roderick. He always either flirted with her or completely ignored her, but usually the latter. It was no surprise that she was the opposite of overjoyed at this turn of events. 

“Oh, Isabelle,” I said, trying to find nonexistent words to comfort her. 

“No, it’s alright. I thought my father might let me do one thing on my own in my life, but I guess that thing is not finding love.” She plopped backwards hopelessly on the blankets and pillows. 

“I could speak to your father if you want. He does usually value my advice. I can talk to him about how making your own choices can help you become a better queen and-“ 

“Thank you, Elmont, but I’ve tried everything. It’s hopeless. At least I’ll have one level head I can talk to when I’m queen.” It took me a few heart stopping moments to realize she was talking about me. “Now promise you won’t go get yourself killed in some petty, nonsensical war before I need you, alright?” She smiled. She was so beautiful when she smiled. Her perfect teeth, that devious little sparkle in her eye, her round lips… 

I blinked, stopping the thoughts. What was I doing imagining kissing her? I hated myself. And I loved her. But she didn’t love me. 

“Alright, I won’t,” I said, returning the smile._ If she doesn’t love me, it’s alright. _I thought, stemming the flow of emotion. Just so long as she becomes happy. That was the night I built the dam, ripped the scar and sewed it back together. She obviously didn’t love me, so I just had to do anything and everything in my power to take this restless bird and let it stretch its wings. I swore it to myself and to her. 

And I am upholding that promise. I take all the emotion and throw it out. She loves Jack, and Jack loves her. It’s beautiful and crooked, the way love works, but it’s my job to keep it running. 

So I have to let her go back down to the world below without me. I can trust Jack to keep her safe and happy like I have all these years. I have to stop the danger coming, or die trying. I have to stop Roderick. Jack can do better for the girl I love than I ever have. I let go of her and tell them I’m staying.


End file.
